


Don't You Dare

by jonsasnow



Series: What Happens On Holiday Stays... There? [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonsa Smut Week, day 1: teasing, day 2: first time, jonsa, theyre both teases tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:31:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Chapter 1: Jon and Sansa are forced on a mid-afternoon hike by Robb even though both would rather be doing something far more strenuous together.Chapter 2: They're back at the cabin and well... Nightly activities ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kattyshack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/gifts).



The day wanes on as Robb leads them through town and then onto a mid-afternoon hike around the Scottish countryside. Sansa normally likes hiking, the fresh air and crispness of winter always puts a smile on her face, but today, each second is torturous, each moment feeling longer than the last. 

It’s been months since Sansa’s _been_ with anyone and the last person had been Joffrey, so it’s not exactly the pinnacle of sexual encounters, and truth be told, she felt more in the five minutes with Jon this morning than she had with Joffrey in their six months-long relationship. It is not particularly a high standard, but Jon surpassed it without even trying. It was the way Jon looked at her – like she was the only thing he could ever need. Sansa had never been desired like that before – not by Joffrey, Harry, or any man or woman in her lifetime. 

Of course, it doesn’t escape her mind in the slightest that sleeping with her brother’s best and oldest friend is the worst idea she’s ever had. The ever pragmatic part of herself is begging her not to do it, to leave it be and find another willing partner, but it isn’t the first time she’s ever thought about Jon in that way. While other girls were having their sexual awakenings over fictional characters, Sansa was having hers while watching Jon at a beach in Barcelona when he joined her family on holiday. Only fourteen, Jon had been as awkward and scrawny as any other boy that age, but with skin goldened by the sun and black curls pulled back with a tie, twelve-year-old Sansa had never seen anyone so attractive. 

It doesn’t help either that Jon only grew more attractive as the years passed. Where his limbs had been lanky back then, he has grown more broad, more hardened by life, those bright grey eyes more wise and dark, and it’s hard to remember exactly why she _should_ resist.

“Can you believe it!” 

Sansa blinks away the daydream of having Jon lick his way down her body and glances at her sister. She thanks the gods that it’s winter and the cold air could explain away the sudden flush of her cheeks. “Huh? I’m sorry, Arya. I was just…” 

“A million miles away,” her sister supplies, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been out of it all morning. What’s going on with you?” 

“Nothing,” Sansa says at the exact moment Jon stretches his hands above his chest, pulling up the jumper to reveal a sliver of skin. It’s not much, but there’s a tuft of hair leading somewhere below his waistband that makes her mouth go dry. She coughs. “I think I’m just hungover.”

Arya nods and takes this as reason enough. She continues on with her story about Gendry’s ridiculous idea of a date. Sansa really tries to listen this time. 

“We were in the middle of dinner when –” 

“Ari, my mum’s ringing,” Gendry calls from up front. “She wants to say hi.”

Arya sighs, giving Sansa a weary frown. “I’ll be right back.” 

She runs up to her boyfriend and leaves Sansa alone in the back of the group. She isn’t alone for long however, because as soon as she’s gone, Jon is beside her. She tenses instantly at the proximity. 

“So…” he says, a smile twitching at his lips. 

“So…” Sansa repeats, the blush coming back at full force. “Beautiful weather, right?” 

Jon chuckles softly, as his hand goes to her lower back beneath her coat. He steps in front of her and angles his body in a way that blocks her from the rest of the group. His grey eyes darken when they meet hers. “Is that what you want to talk about right now?” he asks, but she’s having a hard time formulating a response when his hand is splayed out on her back, collating heat where there’s contact.

“What do you want me to say?” 

Her eyes drop down to the bob in his throat and she has the sudden desire to lick him there and taste the salt on his skin. 

“You’re right. We don’t have to say a single word,” Jon says, nodding gravely. He steps closer as his hand dips underneath her jumper. The sudden whisper of cold air on her skin jolts her, but it’s the feel of skin on skin that makes her body react like a volcano threatening to burst. Jon moves his hand slowly upwards until it’s caught just underneath the band of her bra, his thumb smoothing and caressing her skin where the elastic’s cut into her. Jon then angles his head forward to place a kiss at the edge of her jaw. 

Sansa sucks in a breath the moment his lips touch her. Without thinking, she grabs a hold of his coat and tugs him closer, desperate to feel those lips on her own. Jon, however, has other ideas and he uses his other hand to stop her. 

“No, love,” he says, smirking. “You’ll just have to wait for tonight.” 

The scowl comes easy. After all that and he’s going to refuse to kiss her? The bloody nerve of him! Well, if Jon wants to be a prick then she’ll just have to level the playing field. Sansa draws him forward by his coat and presses herself up against him. It’s a little difficult with so many layers in between them, but she’s flushed so tightly to him that she’s sure he can feel every curve and line of her body. Letting go of his jacket, Sansa lets her hand falls to his hips, trailing them further down so she can grab at his backside and grind against him. “You,” she murmurs, licking a line up the column of his neck just like she had wanted to, “are a prick.”

Jon groans as his eyes fall shut. “ _Fuck,_ Sans…” 

She’s relishing in her triumph when his thumb abruptly moves to her front and flicks over her nipple underneath her bra. “Tonight can’t come fast enough,” he says, as he does it again, causing it to pebble even more. And god, she’s so wet for him, she really has to try to remember why she shouldn’t just rip his clothes off right here and now. “I can’t wait to taste every inch of you.” 

“Jon,” she nearly moans, as he continues to tease her. “I –” 

“Hey!” Jeyne shouts from further up the trail. “What the hell is taking you guys so long?” 

Jon doesn’t break eye contact as he shouts back, “Sansa has something in her eye! We’ll be there in a moment!” And in a manner of seconds, Jon pinches her nipple with his thumb and forefinger until she cries out, pulls his hand back and leaves her standing there alone on the trail as the wind whips at her from either side. 

_Fuck Jon Snow_.


	2. Chapter 2

They’re an hour into tonight’s drinking games and Sansa is squirming in her seat. Jon keeps looking at her from across the room, his gaze heavy and hot as it roves over her face, down her neck, her chest and to where she’s been pressing her thighs together for some goddamned friction. She wants him and she wants him _now_. Sansa doesn’t know how much more of this she can take. 

“I-I think I’m going to head to bed,” she announces, standing up abruptly as the throw blanket pools at her feet. Everyone stops and turns to stare at her. Immediately, the protests come flying out and Sansa sighs. “I’m _sorry_. I’ll be more sociable tomorrow. I just feel really tired and I’ve got a headache, okay?” 

“Are you getting ill?” Jeyne asks, jumping to her feet to press the back of her hand to Sansa’s forehead. She swats away her friend, but not before Jeyne says, “you do look quite flushed but no fever there.” 

“I’m not flushed,” she says, unable to stop herself from glancing over at Jon. He’s smirking into his can of beer and it infuriates her to no end. Is he not as affected as her right now? 

“Well, okay,” Robb says, waving her off. “We’ll see you in the morning, Sans. Night!” 

If he doesn’t follow her back to her room, she’s at least going to get herself off because one way or another, Sansa is going to get some relief. She’s wound so tight right now that she doubts it would take long for her to come apart from her own fingers. Sansa knows what she likes after all, though she doesn’t doubt that Jon would find out just as quickly. He’s very perceptive and from the few short seconds they’ve had together, he’s been an incredibly fast learner. 

Sansa says good night to her family and friends and heads to her bedroom. It’s a shame it’s so close to the lounge anyways because she can hear their voices filter to her room even with the door closed. The anticipation builds as soon as she realises what she’s just excused herself to do and Sansa quickly undresses. She throws on a single-strapped nightie before scolding herself and changing back into her jeans and jumper. What is she doing? She’s being absurd. Jon’s probably not going to even show up. 

The minutes tick by until an hour’s passed since she left the group. Sansa has never felt so stupid in her life to think that Jon would actually come to her. She strips out of her clothes, _again_ , and pulls on her pyjamas, not the cute nightie from before because it’s too cold and she’s feeling miserable, but the snowman-printed cotton bottoms and Robb’s old Winterfell Football United t-shirt. 

Sansa can still hear the group cheering and laughing outside, but the noise is muffled through the door and the sounds are too indistinct for her to tell whether one of those voices is Jon. It probably is. This was all probably just a joke to him. In a fit of frustration, Sansa flings her spare pillow at the door and turns her head to scream into the one underneath her. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ ” 

“Should I come back later?”

Sansa jumps back, surprised, and knocks her head against the wall behind her. “Ow, shit!” In seconds, Jon is immediately by her side with one hand cradling the back of her head and a wry smile on his lips. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “You know, _I’m_ supposed to be the one giving you bruises, right?” At her look, he chuckles bashfully. “I guess you’re a bit pissed at me.” 

“ _Well_ …” She crosses her arms over her chest and jerks her head back from his touch. “It’s been over an hour, Jon.” 

“I know, I know,” he says, sighing. “I’m sorry. Your stupid brother pulled me aside to cry about Margaery and wouldn’t shut up.” Jon places his hand over her thigh, drawing circles through the cloth of her pyjama bottoms with his thumb. “Forgive me?” 

Sansa swallows tightly, already feeling the anticipation from before build up again in the pit of her stomach. “No,” she says as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “You’ll just have to make it up to me.” 

Jon’s smile widens, mischief alight in his grey eyes, and he suddenly grabs at her waist and pulls her down to the edge of the bed. He’s standing in between her legs, his fingers dancing along the line of her waistband, and still smiling that infuriating grin. “Then I guess I should get started then, right?” he asks, to which she nods mutely, watching as he deliberately takes his time folding back her pyjama bottoms. 

As he reveals her hips to the cool air, Jon bends forward and presses a hot kiss to to the inside of her left hip bone. He folds her pyjama bottoms back one more time till only the top of her underwear is showing and licks through the thin white cotton material.

“This is _not_ making it up to me,” she gasps, feeling the wetness of his tongue drenching through her underwear. In lieu of answering, he presses his tongue down again just above her slit and suckles her through the cotton. “ _Jon_ , please.” 

Jon laughs, his hot breath fanning across her cunt, making Sansa squirm where she’s lying. “I thought girls liked foreplay.” 

“We’ve had an entire _day_ of foreplay,” Sansa grouses, bending her leg back so she could kick at him playfully. “I’ve been wet for hours and right now, I just need you to fuck me.” 

A soft groan leaves his lips as Jon closes his eyes, his fingers twitching around where he has her held down by the hips. “Bloody hell, Sans, you can’t just say shit like that to me.”

“If it makes you fuck me faster then I’ll keep saying it,” Sansa smirks. She doesn’t know where this bravery is coming from. She’s never spoken like this with anyone before, only maybe in her filthiest fantasies, but she’s desperate and needy, and god, she wants Jon inside of her _now_. 

Jon opens his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Without another word, he rips both her pyjama bottoms and underwear from her body and throws it over his shoulder. Sansa doesn’t have time to feel self-conscious because Jon wastes no time in covering her cunt with his mouth, licking inside of her and pressing insistently against her clit. Her hands reach out for purchase, gripping onto his hair, and crying out. It’s hard and dirty, no rhythm or pattern to his movements, but it pushes her there faster than anyone’s ever done before. Before she knows it, Sansa is arching her back, grinding herself back against Jon’s tongue, and nearly screaming out his name as the first wave of her orgasm rocks her body. 

Her nerves are tingling with the aftermath. Sansa can hardly catch her breath; she’s barely even aware of Jon’s continued kneading of her thighs or his kisses to her overheated skin. 

“That was fucking –” 

“Sansa?” comes a voice from outside her door. 

They both freeze, their expressions of panic mirroring the other. Sansa’s fingers are still entangled in Jon’s hair and his face is still down _there_ when she replies, “yeah?” 

“Are you alright?” Jeyne asks. “We thought we heard you shout. Or maybe it was the music. Robb thinks it was you shouting.” 

Sansa nearly shrieks when Jon slides one finger into her. “Um… I… I’m fine! I just…” He adds a second finger and it nearly tears down her resolve to keep quiet altogether. “I just fell off the bed! I’m okay!” 

“Oh alright. Well, good night then!” 

“Night,” Sansa breathes out when Jon adds a _third_ finger. She swats at his head and scowls. “Are you… fuck… are you fucking –” 

“Well, actually, yes,” Jon smirks, continuing to thrust his fingers into her. “I _am_ fucking you.” 

“Jon, I swear... to god…” She’s incoherent, babbling, in desperate need of more friction, more _anything_ , but she’s too out of her mind to say anything. Instead, Sansa kicks Jon’s shoulder and tries to scramble away. His fingers pull out of her with a plop and she’s finally able to catch her breath. “You’re an asshole.” 

“And you need to be quiet,” Jon says, chuckling. 

Deciding that he needed to be taught a lesson, Sansa has an idea. She strips the shirt from over her shoulders and tosses it aside. When his pupils dilate at the sight of her bare breasts, she smirks, leaning back against one hand as the other begins to knead and tweak at her right nipple. “And for being an asshole, maybe you get nothing at all,” she says, drawing her fingers up to her mouth so she can wet them, and then bringing them back down to tease at her nipple until it pebbles. After, she trails her fingers down to her clit and her breath hitches at the contact. 

“Fucking christ, Sansa…” Jon exhales, rubbing himself through his jeans. He’s hard, she can see that already, and the thought that he’s aching for her turns her on more than anything he’s done tonight. 

Sansa throws her head back and sighs. “Fuck me, Jon, or get out.” 

“Yes, your majesty,” he chuckles, tugging his shirt off and quickly kicking off his jeans and boxers. If a Jon Snow with clothes on can evoke some of Sansa’s dirtiest fantasies, a _naked_ Jon Snow is sure to be the starring player in all of them now. 

He crawls over to her on the bed but then stops mid-way. “Shit… do you have a condom?” 

Like having cold water thrown over her, Sansa suddenly sobers. “No… well, I didn’t think I’d be doing _this_ over Christmas. Do you?” 

“No, I didn’t either,” he groans. They both sit there in silence, naked as the day they were born, but then Jon suddenly slides off the bed and back onto his feet. “Theon will have some!” 

Sansa inclines her head. “What? Why?” 

Jon gives her a look. “He _always_ has some. Just… hold on. Stay like this. Don’t move an inch!” 

Without another word, Jon throws his clothes back on haphazardly and slips out the door. It’s a bit hard not to move an inch when she’s sitting naked on her bed, wet and still as aroused as before, and also terrified someone will just walk in on her right now. What explanation could she possibly give them? 

Thankfully, Jon’s back barely a minute later, holding several packets of condoms in his hand and a big goofy grin on his face. Sansa arches her brow. “Planning on several rounds, Snow?”

He chuckles and makes his way over to kiss her firmly and soundly on the lips. “Sansa, I want to fuck you until the sun comes up. And then after that and after that and every bloody night until you get sick of me.” 

Somehow something as filthy as that sounds sweet and endearing coming from Jon’s lips. It’s almost a gift how he manages to do that. Blushing, Sansa tries for nonchalant and rolls her eyes. “Just take your clothes off and shut up.” 

He mock-salutes her and begins stripping again. Jon’s half hard now, but Sansa takes the initiative to get him back where they were moments ago and circles her fingers around his shaft. His sharp inhale of breath sends a jolt of pleasure through to her core. Sansa licks up the length of him, swirling her tongue over the head, and then drawing him into her mouth until he’s hitting the back of her throat. Jon chokes out a moan. 

After a few seconds, Jon is pressing his hands to her shoulder and urging her back onto the bed as he covers his body over hers. He rips one of the condom packets with his teeth. “Hey,” he says quietly. “Are you sure you want this? It’s okay if you say no now. I’ll leave. We’ll just…” 

“Jon,” Sansa says, smiling. “I want this.” 

Beaming back, Jon rolls the condom over the length of him and leans over to kiss her, parting her lips with his tongue. She reciprocates instantly, greedy for more of him, and when she feels him press the head of his cock against her entrance, Sansa lifts her hips up to meet him. 

Everything Sansa had ever imagined about what her first time with Jon would be like doesn’t compare to the fullness of actually having him inside her. It hurts at first, the pain of being so tight after so long without sex, but it doesn’t take long for her body to adjust to the feel of him. They move in perfect tandem, slow and steady, no rush, no fast hard fuck as she’d imagined, but something almost sensual in the way they watch each other as they meet thrust for thrust. He runs a hand under her neck, his thumb stroking along her skin, and Sansa reaches up to wind her arms around his back, curving her nails into his skin. 

The moment Jon smiles down at her, that damned glint in his eyes again, she knows she’s in for a rough ride, _literally_ , and he doesn’t disappoint. Jon pulls out abruptly, grabs her hips and tosses her onto her front as if she’s a rag doll. Without hesitation, he pushes back in, harsh and fast, and Sansa muffles her scream into the pillow. “You wanted it rough, right?” he breathes out, a smirk in his voice. He pulls out again so only the tip remains inside of her before ramming it back to the hilt. He does this several times, causing Sansa’s mewls to grow louder and louder as she begins to climb over the edge. 

“Quiet, love,” he chuckles, leaning forward, one hand going up to pinch her nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, while the other hand presses down over her clit. It’s all Sansa needs to come apart and she’s crying out his name as her second orgasm of the night reverberates through her body. She doesn’t know how loud she’s being, if the people outside can hear her, but at this moment, Sansa’s past the point of caring. Let them know that Jon bloody Snow just made her come so hard she saw stars behind her eyes.

Jon continues thrusting, more erratic than before, until his whole body suddenly shudders and he’s groaning, deep and primal. The sound itself is nearly enough to make her push him back for round two, but instead, she stills and lets him collapse on top of her, welcoming the weight of his body, slick with sweat, over her own. 

They stay entwined in each other for several minutes, both struggling to catch their breaths, but then Jon is turning and pulling her around to face him. His eyes are bright and he kisses her softly on the lips. “Hey.” 

Sansa laughs. “Hey yourself.” 

“So…” Jon’s cheek is tinged pink and he chuckles nervously. “Fancy doing this again?” 

“Wasn’t that the plan?” 

“Yeah, but I mean…” His hand flexes around her waist. “Doing it again consistently for the foreseeable future.” 

Sansa arches her brow. “Jon Snow, are you asking me out? Or are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?” 

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Definitely the first. I would never just want to be fuck buddies with you, Sans. And we don’t even have to have sex all the time. We could just hang out or something.” 

This endearing side of Jon may be her favourite side of all, more than the sexy teasing Jon or the infuriating cocky Jon. This bashful one? Yeah, this is the one she fancies. 

Sansa kisses his nose and smiles. “Well, I hope we have sex most of the time though.” 

“Every night then.” 

_God bless Jon Snow._


End file.
